Sunday Scribbling: Guide

This week's Sunday Scribbling theme is "guide." My father came instantly to mind. My father has guided me and my four older brothers—and now his 9 grandchildren and 2 great-grandchildren—throughout our whole lives. He is a gentle, soft-spoken presence: funny and brilliant, encouraging and forgiving. His life has been a constant pursuit of knowledge, and in the course of seeking knowledge, he has acquired tremendous wisdom. He continuously strives to walk in the paths of righteousness, without ever being self-righteous. He is a brilliant scientist and historian who has a heart for Christ.

"My child, listen to me and do as I say, and you will have a long, good life. I will teach you wisdom's ways and lead you in straight paths. If you live a life guided by wisdom, you wn't limp or stumble as you run. Carry out my instructions; don't forsake them. Guard them, for they will lead you to a fulfilled life." (Proverbs 4:10-13)

On Monday my parents, who are in their 80s, are flying to Scotland and Ireland for a 10-day tour. My parents have traveled extensively throughout the second half of their lives; astonishingly, they've never been to Ireland, although my father's grandfather came from there as a boy.

My father has spent his life either growing fruit or doing groundbreaking research in fruit breeding and nursery production. Before him rest five generations of Cummins apple growers. My brothers are the seventh generation, and two have orchards: Stephen has Indian Creek and James has Bittersweet, both in or near Ithaca, NY. Stephen and my Dad also run Cummins Nursery.

I wrote this poem about my father many years ago, and I still love it. This is my most vivid memory of my father: peeling apples.

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Dad, Peeling Apples

The color of wheatbread speckledlike the skin of a Golden Delicious,freckles on top of frecklesand tiny nicksfrom his knife, dots of bloodturned to brown scabs.My father’s hands

have never changed. Every nighta different appleskinned naked,split and seeded without himever looking down, loving the fitof applein the left hand, brown-handledknife in the right.He licks the tip of his fingerwhere the juice runs clearand skewers a slice

for me, which I takeregardlessof whether I wantan apple or whetherthe flesh has begun to brownaround the edges. When he is done,knife set down and fingers wipedclean against the legsof his beige corduroys, I will takethe leathered backof his hand to my cheekand hold it there, begginghis weathered roots to spreadtheir soil-caked fingerslong and strongas deep as the generations will go.

(By Sarah Cummins Small. Copyright 2000. First published in The Yalobusha Review.)

you are so blessed to have your father - what a wonderful and loving description of a mentor and a sage --- sounds like he lives the book of proverbs well - a beautiful father's day gift for him - i hope you print it and give it to him!!!

Oh, that poem is so moving! It creates such a portrait of the man... Wow! Glad to know your Dad will finally get to visit Ireland. I'm hoping he finds what he wants here. - And that the weather stays fine!